


Just One Kiss

by dopeyjoe



Category: Scream (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood Kink, Graphic ending, Knifeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Murder, Power bottom Billy, Sexual Humiliation, Stu Macher deserves better, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25144084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dopeyjoe/pseuds/dopeyjoe
Summary: Stu had known he was gay since he was eleven, when he had been watching Black Christmas on the television. Something about men, but most importantly men covered in blood fascinated him. Naked men covered in blood was a thought that popped to his head a little later. His own blood, preferrably. God, it turned him on.Seeing Billy like that the previous year, covered in Maureen Prescott’s innards, was like a scene from a porno he could never get over.
Relationships: Billy Loomis/Stu Macher
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Just One Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talitiainen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talitiainen/gifts).



Stu was always talking. It wasn’t as much that he had anything concrete to say, it was more that he liked the attention. That if he was to shut up, he’d have time to think. Because he could not simply think and talk at the same time, now could he?  
It was very cold outside that morning, very foggy. As if a bridal veil had been softly set upon Woodsboro. The front lawn of the huge Macher farmhouse was frosty and white, dry leaves littered over the silent yard. And it was quiet.  
Quiet he hated, above all else. That was exactly why Stu avoided being alone as often as he possibly could. This morning was no different, hollow light of the climbing sun leaking trough the naked branches. Empty house, empty fields, empty forests, empty streets. He just wanted to scream to kill the silence, just for a while.  
He sat on the porch and bit his nails, staring at the curve of the road. His parents were away for the weekend, as they often were.  
It was unbearable to just sit here and wait. Billy was supposed to come over, but of course it was too early. A bit past nine, but for a Saturday morning it was obivous that the boy would choose to sleep ’til noon. Because why would he care about that promise he had made anyway? It wasn’t like Stu cared.  
Exept that he did.  
That was why he sat outside in the cold waiting, while he could have as well settled down in the den to watch mtv, or staid up in his room jerking off or something else super productive.  
Sighing accompanied by a roll of his eyes nobody saw, just for the sake of amusing himself with cheap theatrics, he got up to stand again. He had sat there for fifteen minutes with nothing to do, it was a shame he wasn’t a smoker. Tucking his tall fingers into the sleeves of his knit in the cold, he spared one more gaze at the curve. There was nobody there.

The house was disgusting when he said there alone. Absolutely repulsive. It made his stomach turn. Opening the front door to step back inside, he left it unlocked for when Billy would decide to actually turn up. His eyes scanned lazily over the wooden paneling on the walls, the beiges and browns that were supposed to bring a rustic, homey feel to the decor. It failed miserably. The house was never welcoming, it was hard to keep a house that size warm. And a cold house was never a treat to return to. But then again, all small houses weren’t the best either. Yeah, it was warmer at the Loomis residence- but boy, it was a death trap. Hank was a cunt of a man, exactly the reason Billy spent his time at Stu’s rather than at home.  
”You look like a cocksucker. No- you look like someone who’d suck cock and then take it up your faggot ass!” Hank would yell, and his voice would slur. And Billy would pretend he wasn’t hearing any of it, because Hank was like a toddler when he had been drinking: if you pay attention to him, he only grows wilder.  
He was thinking about that, Billy sucking cock that was, as he was walking up the stairs towards his bedroom. Stu’s mind wandered often, and yet again he feared it would wander too far and get lost. There was something deeply unsettling about those thoughts; he had known he was gay since he was eleven, when he had been watching Black Christmas on the television. Something about men, but most importantly men covered in blood fascinated him. Naked men covered in blood was a thought that popped to his head a little later. His own blood, preferrably. God, it turned him on.  
And as he caught himself with these thoughts again, he supposed he should go take a cold shower to cool off, cut it out before it was too late again. But the flashing images of Billy standing there, covered from head to toe in Maureen Prescott’s blood, was arousing him yet again. Deeply, deeply arousing. It had been almost a year already.  
But then he thought about it, and he was home alone after all. So why not, for goddamn once, just let himself have that fantasy?   
So he opened his room’s door, kicked off his shoes and threw himself on the bed. He imagined he had been pushed there by big, rough, bloodied hands. With a swift yank he opened the drawer of the small table next to him. There was a clawed Buck 120 hunting knife there, in the midst of other junk. It was neatly inside of it’s dark leather scabbard, and grabbing it felt somehow freeing. He began unbuckling his belt, slowly pusing his hand inside to grab his already half hard cock trough the thin fabric of his boxers. His hand was cool against it, still chilly from the outside frost. Usually he just liked to hold the knife as he went at it, afraid of doing more in case he’d get loud and his parents would hear. But now he was alone, so why not go further this time?  
Taking off his pants, then his knitted sweater and the tee underneath, and finally the boxers he had began to leak into, he laid on his back on top of the covers. Taking the knife from it’s holder, he looked at the way it glinted in the pale light that filtered trough the thin curtains of his room. Then he began to trace the blade down his skin.  
It was a very sharp knife, but he knew not to put any weight on it to make sure he wouldn’t cut himself by accident. Even though he kind of wanted to. The further down the knife travelled, the harder he got in his hand. And he began to softly stroke himself with his thumb, the knife slowing down as it reached the slight curve of his hip bone. He squeezed himself harder, faster as the knife point began to scratch on his upper thigh, going lower, lower, inner. And then his muscle twitched a little from the pleasure, and he pressed the knife a bit too hard absent-mindedly. It cut a barely an inch long nick to his inner thigh, not deep at all. But it did bleed.  
Dropping the knife onto the sheets by him,  
he whimpered and moaned. His eyes squeezed shut, right hand tight around his cock, left one smearing around the blood on the pale skin of his thigh. Then he brought his bloody fingers to his mouth and began to suck on them, muffling out the noises.  
”What… the… fuck..?!”  
A voice Stu was sure was at first coming from inside of his own clouded head, spoke with genuine, yet monotone and creepily amused shock. It took him a second to realize it wasn’t coming from his head- but the doorway of his room. Snapping out of it, eyes flying open, Stu stopped what he was doing in pure panic. A flush of shame, deepest red Billy had ever seen, painted the blond’s already a bit pink face. Scrambling for the covers, Stu was screaming for him to look away.  
”I’m gonna fucking kill you, don’t you fucking look at me!” He screamed, and the tight knot that rose to his throat was threatening him with tears. As he caught a handfull of the comforter to pull over himself, he fell back onto the discarded knife that now laid on the slightly bloody sheets. It cut a long wound to the back of his upper thigh and ass, and the boy wailed.  
”What the FUCK are you doing?!” Billy yelled, not sure if he should just back out of the room.  
”Dude I cut myself-”  
”Yeah I can see that!”  
”No man, I cut myself RIGHT NOW and- oh shit-” He was crying a little, not because of the pain but the shock and shame, and there was a lot of blood pouring onto the light blue bedsheet under him as he fought an internal battle in between getting up to help himself, or staying there to cover up that raging erection that made the comforter bulge up. ”I fell on top of the knife, it’s… it’s inside of my fucking thigh, man.”  
Billy just stood there kind of frozen, his eyes glued to the scene; his best friend, naked, with uneven smears of blood on his lips, cheeks and chest, blood covered fingers covering himself with the blanket.  
The bed began to slowly look like a butcher shop.  
”Can you go ’til I get some pants on bro?”  
Stu’s lips were trembling, and Billy wasn’t quite sure if the boy was just that ashamed of himself, or that easily clouded by pain.  
”Are you fucking stupid? You can’t just put pants on that, it’ll bleed trough and you’ll get all kinds of shit inside of it.”  
”Then go ’til I patch it up, just fuck off!”  
The itch to finish himself off was the most painful part- this was the biggest erection he had had since the night they killed Maureen. And Billy just didn’t seem to get the hint, standing unmovingly in the doorway.  
”You’re gonna need help with that. I’ll drive you to the ER.”  
And then he did get to moving, but to the opposite direction Stu had hoped for. Instead of, say, getting a towel from the bathroom or something, he walked to the bedside.  
”Show me how deep.”  
”No way man, I’m naked-”  
”I’ve seen you naked before, don’t be such a fucking pussy.”  
”It’s not- I’m just… god, Billy, I need to fucking finish myself off before I turn purple, man!”   
That didn’t seem to set Billy back at all. Instead of giving his buddy the privacy he needed, he dug his fingers into Stu’s surprisingly muscular shoulder.  
”I said show me the wound.” His tone began to sound threatening, and with a shameful whine Stu struggled onto his knees. As he did, the knife shifted in the wound a little, making a small flap of skin tear off before dropping down onto the sheet as the boy was no longer on top of it. The blood looked black, but it’s flow wasn’t as heavy as Billy had secretly hoped for. He was growing hard in his jeans looking at it. Stu’s bare ass and thighs covered in blood was something he hadn’t figured would turn him on before. But there’s a first time for everything.  
”What the fuck is wrong with you, Stu? You filthy fucking whore…” His voice growled low, as the boy was standing back against him on his knees on the bed, and Billy pressed two fingers against the gently flowing bloodstream. He wanted to know what Stu tasted like.   
”Can I- just let me-”  
”What? Touch yourself? Are you a faggot, Macher?” Billy’s voice was harsh, he was getting off on this better than he had gotten off on anything else before. He put his fingers into his mouth and sucked off the blood.  
”Yes I’m a fucking faggot! Just please, please…” The whining and crying was pathetic. Billy loved it.  
”You disgust me.” He said as his right hand got off of Stu’s shoulder, and moved down from under his arm to his waist, then his crotch, tho his dick that was still painfully standing upright. Mercilessly he grabbed it, and Stu’s eyes were actually wet with tears.  
”Did you hear me? You’re a disgusting…” He started stroking, and his hands were strong and warm.  
”…filthy…” Stu was shaking like a leaf against his chest as Billy continued degrading him.  
”…sick…” The taller boy was moaning so loud he was sure it could be heard all the way to town.  
”…whore.”  
And after the last slur, Billy bit his ear as Stu cried out, shaking as he released into his best friend’s hand.  
”Look at you. Ugly, stupid, loudmouth Macher. As if things couldn’t go any worse for you. But a fucking faggot? Man, you sure can’t pick your genre huh…” Billy laughed, but now that Stu had finished off, the degrading didn’t feel good anymore. He was so ashamed of himself he could have just died.  
”Stop… please Billy, no more.”  
”Are you crying?”  
”Yes I’m fucking crying man, can you just help me to the ER now or something?”  
And something about Billy shifted then.  
”Yeah, yeah of course.”

This all felt like a flash. Too many things happened in too little time.  
”You’re so fucking stupid.” Billy said as they sat in his car, three towels stacked under Stu’s ass.  
”Uh-huh.” Was the shameful mutter of an answer.

They never talked about this again. Not a word. But sometimes Billy caught himself feeling kind of lustful, he caught himself thinking of that morning in Stu’s bedroom as he jerked off in the shower every night.  
He caught himself thinking of it outside of the comfort of his home too, sometimes. Sitting in math class, watching Stu fidget with his compass. He was a very handsy person, always touching something, tuggling on something, tapping something to make noise. Billy watched this so intensively, the way Stu pressed his fingertip against the sharp end, hoping he would draw blood.  
Sometimes Billy even tough of the insident while out with the group. Or just alone together with Sidney, who he knew could never satisfy that side of him. The sick side, that Stu had now fed well for a while. She was a picket fence type of girl, from a picket fence type of family. Stu was just rich and arrogant, and a little stupid, and very loud. And submissive, something that Sidney was definitely not. She didn’t give in to peer pressure, or any other kind of pressure either. Billy had tried to talk her into sex for almost two years now, but she was very headstrong. Of course he respected that.  
But Stu? He had no spine. Or he did, but only with every other numbnut in town. Especially with Randy, who didn’t have the type of authority to shut Stu’s dumbass up.  
He had spine with everyone but Billy. The dark haired boy had too much control over him, but neither of them minded.  
Billy could pressure him into murder, he already had. But sex was something he needed no pressure to yearn for. Because Stu, too, had been lost in that loop of playing the morning’s events in his head over and over again.

So he decided to finally ask Billy to come over again.

It had been two weeks now, they had actively avoided being left alone just the two of them. That was understandably hard to imagine, as the two had always been basically joined at the hip. But now Stu was going mad again, alone in the cold house while his parents were out boating. What kind of a rich white bread american chooses to spend their Sunday on a boat? Anyway, Billy had agreed. He would drop by at four, bring The Hills Have Eyes.  
That’s how they had used to spend their weekends, watching horror flicks and getting drunk.

The stereo in the corner of the den was playing The Cure’s album Japanese Whispers. Stu fingered the knife he had decided to stick under the sofa pillow, digging the undersides of his nails with the tip. The front door creaked across the hallway, Stu didn’t even bother to glance over his shoulder. He just stuck the knife back inside of the sofa, and reached to turn down the music.  
”Don’t you know this by heart already?” Billy spoke as he threw the VHS on the couch by Stu, kicking off his shoes on the carpet.  
”I could ask you the same about The Exorcist or Psycho, man. You watch those like once a week.”  
”Yeah, true.”  
Billy sat down, throwing his left leg on top of the dark wooden coffee table as Stu got up to put the cassette into the player. The music was a pleasantly quiet in the background. They were silent for a long moment.  
”Did you really ask me here to watch a movie?” Billy asked as Stu returned to sit by him.  
”Huh? Why else?” The taller boy laughed nervously. He was a good liar, but it depended solely on the circumstance. He couldn’t fake an alibi with Billy.  
”I dunno. Tought you might have been feeling like a litte whore again.”  
The movie started playing, and the light that came in trough the livingroom window was quite pale. It was cloudy outside, lack of light casting shadows over the couches.  
”Don’t do this again-” Stu pleaded quietly.  
”What, you don’t like being called out for what you are?”  
”Billy-” He started feeling anxious again, self consicous, ashamed. He remembered Billy calling him ”ugly, stupid, loudmouth Macher”. It haunted him. He really did want to do this, but not exactly as cruelly as Billy had planned.  
”You’re such a sissy, you know that?” Billy set his hand on Stu’s thigh, but not in a cutesy way. In a rough, possessive, almost aggressive way. Like saying ”I own you, and I’m gonna do anything I goddamn want with you.”  
And it did work. Stu was growing hard in his jeans again, and Billy wasn’t even doing anything. He just stared with those cold, dark eyes, hand unmoving yet firm.  
”Do you have to be so mean, can’t we just-”  
”I’m not your fucking boyfriend, Stu. I don’t have to be nice to you.”  
And this was his cue to shut his mouth. So without whining any more, Stu just sucked in a shaky breath and let Billy do what he wanted.  
”Take off your pants.”  
Stu wanted to ask ”Why are you puppeteering me?”, but decided against it. It was clear that Billy was sick of him constantly talking. So he did as he was told, shakily tugging off his belt. But it seemed to take him too long, because Billy groaned in annoyance and slapped Stu’s hands off the buckle. ”Let me.”  
And he got up from the couch, took one small step to stand in the small space between Stu’s tall legs and the coffee table, and sunk down onto his knees. And with very steady hands opened the buckle, then the button and the zipper, and with a glare signaled for Stu to lift his ass so he could pull the jeans down.  
”You have an impressive cock, for a spineless worm that is.” Billy growled, pressing his palm against Stu’s bulge trough his boxers. This alone made him whimper.   
It was surprising how well Billy seemed to know what he was doing, considering how he was both a virgin and ”extremely heterosexual”.  
His fingers dug under the waistband of Stu’s boxers, pulling them down as swiftly as he had the jeans. After that he kind of froze.  
”You okay, man?” Stu was kind of scared to ask.  
”Yeah I’m- I-“ Billy closed his eyes for a moment. On the television, the family had stopped at the gas station. Soon the screaming would start.  
“We can just watch the movie, you don’t have to-“  
“Shut up.”  
And with that, Billy had snapped out of whatever had gotten into him, and he grabbed Stu’s dick to help it into his mouth. His lips were very soft. Stu wondered if he had put on lip balm before coming over. A strange thing to consider while beind blowed by your best friend, that’s for sure.  
He was quite good, and he could take it very deep without gagging. Helping himself with his right hand, his left felt around at the edge of Stu’s upper thigh. He could feel the stitch marks; they had been removed a couple of days earlier, as the wound had now shut and healed well enough. But the skin was still very sensitive there, and Stu liked the surprising sofness in Billy’s touch for a change.  
”You are to die for.” Were the only flustered words in his head he found a way to mumble out, and Billy stopped sucking. Slowly jerking his head back, letting Stu’s throbbing cock out of his throat to fall back towards his white tee, almost reaching his bellybutton. It felt unpleasantly wet and cold now, outside of Billy’s mouth  
”Then die for me.”  
And it wasn’t like he said it to be poetic- he said it with such dead calm seriousness in his tone it was almost scary. His eyes seemed black and cold in that light. But the truly scary part was, Stu had meant it. He really wouldn’t have minded if Billy was to take that clawed hunting knife from in between the couch pillows, and stick it into his goddamn throat. Sometimes he thought about it- how it would feel to be gutted alive. What the kiss of the blade would feel like inside of his windpipe.  
So he reached for it, hand falling down to the side of the couch to grab the handle. Billy stared at him, wide eyed, and the smile he tried to hide made his lip twitch.  
“So you brought toys, huh.” Billy reached to take the knife, but Stu didn’t let go. Instead he traced the point across Billy’s perfect jawline, making the boy’s breathing shallow.   
“I could kill you.” Stu whispered, and Billy tightened his gip around his cock to show some form of forceful dominance.  
“I could bite your dick off.”  
By god, Stu wanted to kiss him. He wanted Billy to get out of his clothes and climb on top of him and ride his cock with the knife pressed against his throat in a way that’d make Stu afraid of breathing.  
He let the knife drop lower, softly scratching the jutting vertebra of Billy’s neck. And lower, to the edge of his shirt. He cut a hole to the fabric. Getting the clue, Billy took his shirt off and trew it to the other couch across from them. Then he looked at Stu very sternly, as if making sure that he definitely wasn’t doing this because he wanded him to. And then he unbucked his own belt. Stu wanted to touch himself so badly as he watched, but he knew he couldn’t. Not without being punished with humiliation.  
”Take that off.” Billy grunted, and Stu got out of his shirt as well, kicking the jeans and boxers off of his ankles. He was just wearing socks now, but it’s not gay if you’ve got socks on, right?  
They were both naked now, apart from the socks of course, and Billy spit on his palm. Then he rubbed it on Stu’s cock as makeshift lube, making the boy below him whine.  
”Kiss me.” Stu moaned, and if he had been thinking straight he wouldn’t have; asking Billy to kiss him was almost like asking him for a punch in the throat.  
”Don’t be a fucking faggot, Stu.”  
”What, so none of this is gay if we don’t kiss?”  
”Yeah.”  
And with that, Billy propped himself up on his knees. Helping with his hand, he pressed Stu’s cock against his ass for a moment, before it slipped in with difficulty. Billy was immune to pain, it had almost seemed like that. The knife felt hot in Stu’s hand. He offered for Billy to take it, and the boy did just that.  
He pumped himself on top of Stu, rolling his hips, and his face seemed almost psychotically blank. Where as Stu was moaning loudly, so loudly that it prompted Billy to press the knife against his throat so tight that making noise literally put his life in danger. He sped up his movements.  
Stu’s left hand was resting on Billy’s hip, he feared that the boy would push it away. But he didn’t. His right found it’s way to wrap it’s fingers carefully around Billy’s dick, pumping it in rythm with the boy’s movements.  
Billy pressed the knife against Stu’s throat harder, making a small cut just below his adam’s apple. Then he slowed down. Making the boy below him whine like a dog that had been kicked down a flight of stairs.  
Billy licked the knife clean, while Stu’s hand squeezed on his ass like he was holding on for dear life. Then Billy leaned in to lick off the blood that had started to slowly run down his neck towards the curve of his collar bones. It was a surface cut, the kind that didn’t really hurt apart from the sting of sweat that mixed in it. The first screams could be heard on the tv, where the kid Bobby just found his dog’s mutilated corpse from the hillside.  
“Don’t stop.” Stu pleaded. And Billy stopped licking right on that instant.  
“I won’t take orders from you, Macher.”  
That worked as a good sign for Stu to shut his mouth if he wanted to steer clear of the degrading. And Billy brought the tip of the knife to Stu’s parted lips, it clicked against his teeth. He started rolling his hips again, Stu’s shaky breath making the cool blade fog up. This time, Billy too was kind of twitching in pleasure. As he neared climax, he pulled the knife from Stu’slips, it cratched a small cut there. Taking the blade back to the boy’s neck, Billy was too proud to kiss off the blood that now colored Stu’s teeth with it’s grimace. So he put his fingers there, and let Stu suck on them.  
Then he felt himself twitch, biting on his own bottom lip as he came, and for the first time he actually moaned. The hand he held the knife in was shaking.  
Stu followed suit, feeling himself release inside of Billy. But just as he did, the knife sunk into his throat. Deep inside of it.

Billy hadn’t exactly meant to do that. His muscles kind of just clenched, and it happened.

Stu made a noise. A terrible noise as Billy’s fingers pulled out of his mouth. The blood was basically spraying out of him. Then, as his mouth and throat began to fill up, he gurgled heaving for the air he could no longer reach. God, even when his vocal cords were snapped in half he was still loud. Blood was sprouting from his mouth and throat onto Billy’s naked chest like a fucking fountain. His fingers were twitching as Billy held his hand in place to stop it from trying to cover the wound. He didn’t want Stu to cover it- he wanted to watch. It was bizarre how fast human body turns cold and clammy with sweat as the body begins to shut down. The freak part was, Stu was still inside of him too.  
”Isn’t this what you wanted?” Billy asked, like a mother talking to her scared child. Very softly, and there was genuine emotion in his eyes. Yet as Stu stared up at him as he struggled, he couldn’t place exactly what emotion that was. It wasn’t like he could have heard Billy speak anyway- his head was filled with the rushing sound of his own blood like a highway, and he was drifting. His eyesight was turning blurry and oddly bright. And he wasn’t really awake much longer, he didn’t really feel anymore, it was all reflexes and adrenaline and natural instinct to struggle against suffocation or bleeding out before his heart would give out.  
Billy wondered wich would take him faster. He supposed the bloodloss, there was so much of it. So fucking much.  
On the screen, Bobby was laying in the sand unconsicous.  
Billy’s face, chest and hair were soaked. He lowered himself down to press a hungry kiss on Stu’s shaking, bloody lips. It was a very particular feeling to kiss someone who’s dying there, just under you. His mouth filled with blood as he did so, and he swallowed some of it. Then he tilted his head, and kissed the boy’s neck. No- he kissed the wound. It was like a second mouth, just bigger, wetter, wider, hotter and hungrier. And without teeth. It was so deep it literally almost reached the boy’s spine.  
But then Stu stopped struggling. And it got very quiet as the gurgling died out, and the blond boy stared up past Billy, past the celling fan, past the ceilling itself, somewhere way higher and beyond.  
Billy swallowed dryly as the blood flow began to slow down. It never stopped, but it wasn’t sprouting anymore. Now it just ran along the boy’s neck and chest, clumping up to a puddle on the leather couch. It looked black. Almost like ink.  
This felt different.  
This felt wrong.  
The knife was hot and slippery in his bloodied palm, and he felt himself start to hyperventilate. This wasn’t the kind of rush he had hoped for, this was shameful, regetful, painful. This was a panic attack.   
This was the only person Billy had ever genuinely cared for.  
The moment in the movie was quiet, the light of the television screen made the knife glint.  
And on the stereo, The Cure sang;

”Somebody died for this  
Somebody died for just one kiss.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my homie PP, sorry the ending is,,,, what it is, I know u wanted fluff :( I hope u liked these two stabby slasher twinks fuckin’ anyway.   
> And everyone else who stumbled upon this too- I hope you liked it! It’s one of my personal faves I’ve ever written.   
> Here’s a link to the song ”Just One Kiss” by The Cure that inspired this whole thing, give it a listen if you wanna get more into the vibe:  
> https://youtu.be/Xj-PDcBQzEs


End file.
